


A Thursday Night

by PossessiveApostrophe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Drugged Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Gay Bar, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Naive Harry Potter, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Older Man/Younger Man, Sex Tapes, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PossessiveApostrophe/pseuds/PossessiveApostrophe
Summary: Horace counts himself lucky to find a tipsy Harry Potter sitting at the pub counter. Things escalate.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Horace Slughorn
Kudos: 228





	A Thursday Night

The boy was no older than sixteen, Horace thought, his eyes raking over the child’s slight frame. He was perched at the bar, sipping on a pint someone else must have bought for him. He was alone now, though, his wide eyes darting around the pub insecurely. Horace almost felt sorry for the kid, he’d clearly come here for a reason- the thin top and too tight jeans a testament to his desires. But Thursday nights weren’t so busy, IDs weren’t checked so rigorously, and little boys could sneak in easily. Maybe the kid just wanted to have a night out dancing but none of his friends would join him, maybe he wanted to know what it was like to be out and proud, Horace didn’t care. From the booth where he was sitting, he watched the boy, taking in that sexy little arse as the boy drank, oblivious.

He waited for the boy to finish his drink before he made his way over there. Of course, Horace left a little time between the glass being empty and his arrival, he didn’t want to be caught out. But when he sat down next to the boy- he had the most charming green eyes that were unfortunately hidden by thick glasses- Horace didn’t think he needed to take the precaution. The boy was fiddling with his fingers, clearly uncomfortable in the loud and dirty gay bar. Nothing spelled out fresh meat like the innocent eyes next to him. Horace ordered another drink for himself, noticing that the boy was watching him as he did so. Now, he was under no illusion, he knew that he wasn’t the most appealing to look at, but at the end of the day, none of that really mattered. Horace studied the boy in return, he had looked away. He could be considered a pretty thing, he thought. More growing would have to be done to make him more attractive. At the minute he was young and a little lanky. But he had two perfectly plump lips that Horace could imagine would look very nice around a fat cock. And, more enticing was that gleam of uncertainty, of innocence in his eyes- a look that would surely be destroyed with age. It hooked him, and if he hadn’t already chosen the boy based on his shapely behind, Horace would have no choice by then.

“Can I buy you another?” He asked, gesturing towards the empty glass. The boy looked shocked, green eyes shimmering in the dim light. He nodded stiltedly and tacked on a quick thank you. The bar man (a new boy with lovely abs shown off under his crop top) placed it on the counter before being called over by someone else. Horace watched the boy’s mouth as he took a sip. “How old are you?”

He looked up, startled, but his voice seemed pretty even as he said, “Eighteen.” Horace wasn’t a fool, he may have been old himself, but he knew perfectly well what an eighteen-year-old looked like. He chuckled a little, raising an eyebrow mockingly.

“Is that so?” He asked and the boy squirmed in his seat. He said yes, but blushed as he did so, refusing to make eye contact. It really must have been his first time out and that sent a thrill down Horace’s spine. To take someone so young, so naive, it was what he came here for. “How old are you really?” He asked, then when it looked as if he wouldn’t say any more, Horace tapped his nose, “I won’t say a word.” 

The boy looked at him calculatingly for a minute or two, then must have deemed him trustworthy as he slumped a little and said, “Fifteen.”

It was even better than Horace had thought, a fifteen-year-old boy! He could feel arousal pooling in his stomach and shifted to make sure it didn’t show. “No need to be embarrassed, lad. Fifteen is a very good age to be.”

The boy scoffed, “I want to be older, no one takes me seriously.”

“What’s your name?”

The boy tensed up again. “Harry…” He said with uncertainty.

“Well, Harry,” Horace put on a lovely, warm smile, “I will be sure to take you seriously.” Horace wanted to reach out and touch him, perhaps place a hand on his lower back, but refrained. Harry was only slightly tipsy on one pint and touch would surely scare him off. “I’m Horace.” Albus once had told him off for giving out his real name, claiming it would be his own fault when he landed in prison. But Horace couldn’t help himself, he was an indulgent man, and if he was going to take someone, he wanted to hear them cry out his name. He didn’t think it was too much to ask for, a pretty boy desperate on his cock, moaning, “Horace… Horace… Horace…”

He shifted his position again, embarrassed to find himself almost sporting a semi.

Harry was smiling at him prettily as he slurped more of his beer down. Good, he thought, the drunker, the better, and teenage boys had such a low tolerance these days.

Horace went on to ask Harry questions about himself; about school and his friends, his family and his hobbies. The boy voluntarily gave up a lot of personal information, eyes sparkling as he did so. It seemed that he didn’t often get to talk about himself and was relishing in this new acquaintance who allowed him to ramble on. Horace didn’t mind the chatter. It let Harry’s guard go down until he was at ease, and already halfway through his third pint. His cheeks were getting very rosy, words almost slurring together in an adorable way. Mostly, Horace was watching his lips as he spoke, wondering if they’d ever taken a cock, wondering how nice they would feel. Harry licked his lower lip without realising what the sight of a hot tongue swiping across that lovely pink lip would do to him. With a lot of self control, Horace refrained from groaning and tried to pay attention to the boy talking about his football team. That, unfortunately, didn’t help Horace’s situation because he could then only picture the boy in a tight kit, hugging his arse as he ran around the pitch.

When his fourth beer was ordered, Horace stroked Harry’s thigh with a small smile. It seemed that the boy was too gone to notice, not used to drinking so much in a short time. “Harry, my boy, shall we sit in a booth?” He needn’t offer any kind of excuse because he nodded exaggeratedly and hung onto Horace’s arm as he half-stumbled across the bar to get to the empty booth. Harry slid in first and Horace trapped him in the corner. 

Now was the time, he thought to himself, looking at the dazed boy beside him. Feeling in his pocket, he found a little plastic bag and opened it, slipping inside and pulling out one pill. He watched Harry carefully. The boy was already too dazed to notice much going on around him, so it was simple for Horace to drop the pill in his drink and watch as it fizzed angrily before dissolving completely. Maybe the pill wasn’t even necessary, he thought as he looked as Harry was smiling up at him, completely relaxed. It didn’t matter, it would be helpful later, just in case the alcohol prevented Harry from getting aroused. Horace wasn’t a bad man, he wanted his partners to be just as sexually satisfied as he was. Plus, there was nothing more beautiful than watching a teenager spurt out cum from being roughly fucked. It was really a sight to treasure.

“Drink up, lad.” Horace prompted, nudging him with his shoulder. Harry did, gulping down the beer quickly. They sat close together, thighs pressed firmly against each other. It was lovely and arousing to be pressed flush against the boy, hinting at better, more close touching later on. In fact, Horace thought as he slowly traced up and down the inside of the boy’s thigh, later might be sooner after all. The pill had taken effect quicker than normal. Harry’s eyes fluttered at the touch and he let out a breathy moan. Too quiet to be deliberate, but too ragged to be anything but arousal.

“Harry, it’s very late and you are very drunk. Don’t you think it’s time to go home?” Horace whispered into his ear. He pulled away and watched Harry’s face flushed darkly. 

He shook his head, “I can’t. Uncle will be mad. Horace, please.” It was all too easy.

“Please what, Harry?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

Harry squirmed next to him and peeking down, he was fully hard, his cock straining against his jeans. The pill really did work wonders, the effects probably heightened by how small and thin he was. “Can I crash at yours? Just tonight?”

Horace sighed, watching gleefully as Harry’s face fell. He opened his mouth to beg again, but Horace placed a finger over it, shushing him. “Fine.” He said and Harry lit up, grinning against his finger. “But  _ only  _ if you’re good.”

It was beyond easy to push Harry into a cab and fondle him in the back as they sped through the streets of London. The driver, who noticed, watched occasionally through the mirror, but didn’t say a word. Horace slipped him a tenner. He might have let the cabbie cop a feel if he wasn’t so possessive.

Harry had been a very good boy the whole way back, making cute little whimpering noises every time Horace’s hand strayed near him. It was pleasing how desperate he had become, pushing up his hips to meet the touch, wanting friction on his hard cock. It was definitely Harry’s first time being groped or touched by anyone other than himself and Horace relished in every sound and every little twitch the boy made.

He walked him to the door, cupping his bum. But it was once the two were safely inside Horace’s house that he let his hands explore further. Horace pressed Harry up against the wall, his belly pressing against the boy’s back and gently stroked his face. Harry pushed back instinctively, but only succeeded in pressing their bodies closer together. “I could take you right now, fuck you against this wall. And I know you wouldn’t complain. Beg me, even.” Harry was whining, pressing back for completely different reasons. His bum wiggled against Horace’s erection, grinding deliciously. He let the boy have his fun for a few minutes before pulling away and spinning Harry around to face him. He pinned his hands above his head. “Tell me what you want, my dear, and I promise I will give it to you.”

Harry’s pupils were blown, lips pink and parted, and his cheeks a rosy hue. Horace had never wanted a boy more than he did then. But he waited, watching carefully for Harry to gain the brainpower he needed to tell Horace that he wanted to be pounded. He did want to be fucked, of course, the boy was practically leaking in his jeans in anticipation. “Horace,” he whined, clearly higher than a kite, “need sex.” He grinned.

“Well done, Harry.” He rubbed his bicep. “Talking like an adult, I don’t understand why your friends treat you like a kid. You’re grown up, yeah?” Harry nodded eagerly. Horace chuckled. “You’re not a virgin are you?” He asked, watching with glee as Harry blushed furiously and tried to deny it. “Good. I don’t have sex with little virgins.” Then, testing the waters, he added, “Are you  _ sure  _ you’re not a virgin?”

“I’m not!” Harry protested, and that lie was all the encouragement Horace needed to scoop him upstairs. It was difficult, with how drunk Harry was, but Horace was well-practiced and safely planted the boy on his bed. He sat on the edge, looking both innocent and extremely filthy. Lord, he was going to have some fun with this one. Looking at the camera positioned on the chest of drawers, Horace glanced toward the boy. His glassy eyes were unfocused, seemingly forgetting where he was. A perfect time to slyly turn the camera on. The light turned red.

Horace sat on the bed next to Harry who jolted at his presence. “Kiss me.” He asked of him, delighted when Harry immediately pressed his lips to his. The kiss was inexperienced but eager. He was moving his lips with an unpracticed frenzy, something that wasn’t all that nice to experience, but Horace was sure he would enjoy it more when he could look over the footage and see what Harry looked like. He let the boy continue for a few seconds more before pulling away. His eyes rested heavily on him as he panted, then Horace leant back in and led the kiss himself. This time, it was sweet and gentle. He slowly moved his lips, drinking in Harry as if he were something rich to be savoured. When he swiped a tongue at Harry’s lips, his mouth opened and Horace entered hungrily. Whether it was on purpose, or by surprise, he didn’t mind, as long as he could take him, he didn’t care how he got there.

Horace’s hands slid up and down Harry’s delicate frame, feeling up his lean chest and pointy nipples. He let his fingernails graze over the hard nubs, delighted by the little whine he drew from Harry’s throat. 

But he needed more. He wanted to see the boy naked, to see his hard teenage cock.

Horace broke the kiss. Saliva hung from Harry’s mouth. He wrinkled his nose and wiped it away with a hankie. They were always messier on drugs.

“I want you to strip.” He demanded, hand resting gently on his thigh. Harry had a small, distant smile on his face and he nodded. He pulled the shirt over his head with no tease, just one quick motion, immediately exposing his lovely chest to Horace. He let his eyes linger on it, taking in the young body, so small and tight. His skin looked soft, only small tufts of hair on his chest and under his arms. He was lanky, too, more than Horace had thought, but that didn’t matter to him, Harry still looked more than edible. Next were the trousers. He stood up and pulled at the fly, drawing Horace’s eye to that glorious bulge. It was revealed as Harry tugged his jeans off, sitting down to pull them off his feet. His legs were skinny too, and if he were any smaller, Horace was sure he could be mistaken for a doll. Even now, he thought with glee, he could hold him down easily and throw him around as if it were nothing. Lastly, were the boxers. They clung tightly to his body, leaving little to the imagination. Horace could see the long line of the boy’s erection and dampened his lips in anticipation. They too were removed with ease, and the erection sprung up to his stomach. Horace made a noise of appreciation. “Sit closer to me.”

Harry shuffled, naked, to sit as close as possible to Horace, pressing their bodies together. His feet didn’t quite touch the floor which was charming. At the tip of the boy’s cock was a shining drop of precum, which Horace wiped at with the pad of his thumb and smeared it along the length. Harry was very vocal at the first touch, grunting and groaning together and eyes fluttering back. The overreaction to such a small touch made Horace very smug, remembering it was his first time. He spat into his palm and started to jerk him off, tugging in a way he knew he would like. Harry was squirming where he sat, unsure where to put his hands or position himself. His hips were shaking and flinching, pushing himself deeper into Horace’s hold. His breaths were quick and full of lustful moans as Horace sped up the pace, giving the boy no mercy. The bed shook and Horace grinned. Harry’s whole face was flushed, the red spreading across his chest too. He flung his head back, mouth gaping open and eyes squeezed shut. The sight was heavenly. Harry came quickly, shooting cum all over his stomach and Horace’s hand. His cock stayed hard.

Luckily, none of his semen had landed on his jacket, narrowly missing the cuff. Horace used his hankie to clean himself up, but rather liked the dirtiness staining Harry. Like marking his loss of innocence. The cum slid down his belly disgustingly. It was all quite beautiful. “Did you like that, Harry?” Harry didn’t speak but rested his head on Horace’s shoulder, humming. Horace chuckled and stroked his hair, lovingly. Harry practically purred at the touch.

It was time, he decided, now that his cock was achingly hard. It took Horace a few seconds to decide which way he wanted Harry on the bed- camera pointed towards his hole as Horace opened him up, or his face, so that he could see the beautiful expressions as he was entered for the first time. For some boys, he hid their faces, finding the sweet curve of their arse and their tight, puckered holes far more entertaining to watch. But Harry was a dear thing, and if he couldn’t see the quiver of his brow as it happened, he wanted to at least be able to watch it later. He grinned to himself. 

“Harry, can you help me take my clothes off?” The boy was eager to help, pulling off his blazer and chucking it to the floor. He was too far away for Horace’s liking, however, so he picked the boy up and placed him so he straddled his lap. Harry looked up at him, slightly confused, so Horace at to prompt him to keep going. The shirt was a little more tricky, with fiddly buttons that kept slipping out of Harry’s loose grip. Horace didn’t help, though, preferring to watch him struggle and whine. When he was free of his shirt, Horace pulled Harry in, kissing him again. His belly was pressed against his naked skin, and he let his hands roam up and down his soft back, cupping his arse and kneading the flesh. Harry moaned and began to rut against him, creating a wonderful friction against his cock. Horace pulled away before either of them could cum. “Trousers.” He said, simply, pushing Harry to the floor.

It was a glorious sight. Harry was kneeling before him, pulling the zip of his trousers down teasingly slowly. His cock was red and flush against his stomach. If the boy wasn’t so inexperienced or intoxicated, he might have had Harry suck him off and pump a load down his throat. His trousers now gone, Horace was left sitting in his boxers, with Harry’s hand shaking at the waistband. Despite his arousal, there was fear in his eyes- something Horace wasn’t expecting with the drugs. He didn’t mind, of course, there was something thrilling about convincing someone to have sex when they don’t want to. It made him feel powerful, in control. “You told me you were grown up,” Horace said after he was sure that Harry wasn’t going to move on his own. Harry looked up at him, eyes full of guilt. He grabbed the boxers in his fists but didn’t move. “If you’re too young for this…” He continued, purposefully letting Harry fill in the gaps. His eyes flashed and he tugged down the boxers, gasping when Horace’s erection sprung out.

“Well done, I knew you weren’t lying.” He stood up to find the lube and condoms. “Now get on the bed for me, darling, on your hands and knees.” He did so, arse high up in the air and facing away from the camera. He chuckled to himself at the irony of it, and told him to face the other way. The boy’s face was twitching in anticipation, or perhaps it was nerves. He looked very pretty with wide eyes and up-turned eyebrows. Horace slid behind him and got a perfect view of his tight hole. He grabbed the cheeks, pulling them apart and grinned as his hole stretched. He couldn’t wait to feel the boy’s heat wrapped around his cock.

With a generous amount of lube, Horace circled Harry’s arsehole with a chubby finger, relishing the way he shivered at the touch. He chuckled slightly, itching with anticipation. He plunged the finger in, pushing slowly deeper until his second knuckle was clenched by the ring. Harry whined, a high-pitched, feminine thing and Horace longed to see the look on his face. Was he in pain? Or was it pleasure tugging at his features? The warm hole sucked his finger in deeper, and he pushed it until he was fully inside the boy. “Good boy.” He praised, liking the way his finger disappeared in between the white flesh. He began to move, pumping his one finger into Harry to get him used to the feeling. Before long, the boy was moaning and moving back onto his finger without him even having to move. Horace watched in awe as Harry fucked his virgin arse so wantonly. He then lined up a second finger, pushing with slightly more force, but Harry’s hole sucked him in welcomingly, taking two fingers just as well as he took one.

Horace loved fingering. He loved the way he could feel a boy’s arse open up for the first time, willingly pried apart by his fingers. He loved the way Harry took it upon himself to thrust backwards, arching his back like a little slut. He was hitting his prostate, every few thrusts, enough to keep him hard, but not too much to cause a little accident. This was a mistake Horace had made before. One of the boys he had prepared came before Horace had the chance to fuck him. Of course, he did anyway- the drugs and youth meant the boy was stiff again in no time. Ah, how he longed to be young again.

He scissored his fingers, stretching them wide against the tight muscle and grinning at Harry’s breathless yelp. It was pathetic how easy it was to get the boy to squirm and moan and make delicious sounds. This was his favourite thing about young teens- how pliant they were; how susceptible to touch. Especially virgins, they reacted to everything with such a naive mind, so even a simple stretch of his fingers had Harry’s legs quaking. He felt so powerful, being able to wreck a boy with a few careful strokes. Horace twisted his two, fat fingers, then jammed them in hard, hitting the prostate. Harry was being so good, taking him so well already that he couldn’t help but move on to a third. It was a tighter squeeze than two, taking a little more force to push them past the ring of muscle. He pushed them all the way in. His hole was perfect- so hot and wet, that Horace almost gave in to his desires and pounded him right then. But Harry was still so unprepared, still far too tight, and really, he didn’t want the boy broken yet.

Horace curled his fingers, smirking as Harry automatically arched his back. Slowly, he began to pump his fingers, letting Harry get used to the wider girth. The muscle was stretching, his hole getting bigger and bigger. Horace was itching to stretch him out properly, make his arse gape and drip with cum. 

With one last twist of his fingers, Horace decided it was enough. He couldn’t wait any longer. 

Horace lazily tugged on his hard penis, slathering it up with lube, before lining up with Harry’s arsehole. The boy yelped, clearly he’d figured out what was happening now. Horace huffed out an amused laugh, before pushing forward, his cock squeezing into the tight hole. Lord almighty, even after being opened up, the kid’s hole was beautifully constricting- he felt fucking amazing around the tip of his penis. Horace sunk in deeper, wanting Harry to feel him all the way inside, to feel him there for days after. Harry cried out, from pain or pleasure, Horace wasn’t sure, but it was seductive enough for his hips to twitch. It took all his self-control to remain still, the warm channel was perfectly moulded to his cock- he just knew that Harry would milk him like a good boy.

Experimentally, he pulled back a little, letting his cock move inside Harry, watching carefully for any signs that it was too soon. His shoulders were taut and he imagined his face was screwed up in pain, but apart from that, there was nothing. He felt hot and soft, cushioning Horace’s cock nicely. So he closed his eyes, and waited. It didn’t take long for his resolve to break, his arousal far too strong and he began to slowly fuck the boy. Harry was obscene, with every thrust he let out little sounds of pleasure, saying, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” and Horace had barely even touched his prostate yet. What a needy little thing, desperate for a fat cock up his arse, using him properly. Horace smirked, building up a slightly faster pace now that Harry had grown accustomed to the girth.

His large belly was slapping against Harry’s bum, filling the room with the sounds of flesh and fucking. Everything was disgustingly beautiful- there was something so lovely about the perversion. Horace yearned for the thin, supple body of boys like Harry, and to force them to take his old, wrinkly cock. It was an indulgence.

Harry was a quick learner, meeting each thrust eagerly, so Horace sped up, pounding into him repeatedly. 

“You know,” Horace said, his breath short, “you were such rape bait, sat on that fucking barstool with those tight clothes and innocent look.” Harry’s moaned back something incoherent, which Horace ignored, electing instead to pound into him harder. The boy took cock so well, like he’d been trained for the very thing. Fuck, he wished he could lock him up and train him to be his forever. “God, how could I not just walk up and claim you? Fuck, it’s what you wanted, though. I know, Harry. This is what you wanted to happen. To be fucked by an old man because it’s the only way you can be taken seriously.” Harry’s response sounded too much like, “yes!” to be anything else, and Horace’s cock twitched violently, almost coming from the excitement of that admission.

God, he felt so good, his tight, wet hole clenching on every thrust, hugging his cock as he jammed it inside him. Harry was practically crying by the force and pleasure of it all, which only spurred Horace on, loving the nonsense he was spewing. He babbled and moaned and whined, with fists clenched tightly in the sheets. It was a beautiful display of animal lust. 

He was grasping onto Harry’s hips firmly, digging his nails into the soft flesh, and using it as an anchor to pull in and out, to fuck him good and hard.

Horace pushed into him, then slowly pulled his cock out, watching the ring stretch. The head came out with a wet pop. Harry automatically pushed back to try and fill himself up again, but Horace was content to look at his gaping hole, red and hot.

Horace spun the boy around and pulled him on top, so that he was straddling him. He laid back, head propped up against a pillow and grinned. Harry hovered himself above Horace’s cock, his hot skin teasing the tip gently. He pushed down, but it slipped out, so Harry tried again, guiding it in with his hand. It felt nice to be slowly engulfed again, being able to watch the boy as he sat on his cock. His face was twitching with arousal, mouth agape and eyes lidded.

Once he was fully seated, Harry began to rock gently, fucking himself slowly. “Horace,” he moaned, beautiful and laced with lust. He wondered what the drugs were making him feel, if the boy could even think coherently. He presumed not, as Harry fucked himself greedily, all virgin pretence vanished. He was close, Horace thought, impressed that he’d lasted this long. As an old man himself, he was finding it difficult to keep going. Luckily, there pinched up expression on Harry’s face as he went faster, hinting at an orgasm, very, very soon. He desperately withheld his own ejaculation, wanting Harry’s cum face to be the thing to tip him over the edge.

“Fuck, that’s it Harry,” Horace said and pinched a pink nipple. Harry cried out, then slammed down hard on Horace’s cock, spluttering cum everywhere. And Lord Almighty, his face. That face of pure ecstasy, something he’d never even felt before. It was etched so beautifully in his expression- the flushed cheeks, his teeth biting into his fat bottom lip, the way his eyes rolled back… Horace was the first person to ever witness such a sight. He came, pumping his cum deep inside the boy. Fuck.

Harry slumped forwards, his sweaty body covering Horace’s. He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him for a hug. He’d done very well, very well indeed. “You were so good for me Harry, so nice and grown up for me.” He praised, stroking his hair. They stayed in that position for a while, until the boy’s breaths started to even out into a deep slumber. Horace let his hands stray again, feeling up the small body he’d just fucked. He was a lovely specimen, so small and thin.

He pulled out of Harry, and his cum started to ooze. Horace watched for a few seconds, before feeling a chill. He decided to leave Harry there until he woke. Horace needed a shower. 

When he next saw Albus, he smugly handed him a tape and said, “Virgin. Fifteen.” 


End file.
